


That Red and White Suit

by Beleriandings



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Christmas fic, Dressing up as Santa, Family, Fluff, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-10
Updated: 2014-08-10
Packaged: 2018-02-12 15:54:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2115846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Beleriandings/pseuds/Beleriandings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fëanor's family has a yearly Christmas ritual.</p>
            </blockquote>





	That Red and White Suit

**Author's Note:**

> Kind of the wrong time of year to post this I realise, but oh well, it was a great prompt!

“Maitimo, help me, would you?” said Nerdanel distractedly, handing her eldest son a squalling Ambarussa, who promptly tried to make a getaway. Maitimo clung to his small brother, whispering words of comfort while Nerdanel soothed Ambarto, rocking him in her arms, avoiding his tiny, flailing fists.

“I don’t see why we have to do this every year” complained Carnistir, picking at his lumpy Christmas sweater – identical in design to his brothers’ although the eight-pointed star on each was picked out in a different colour – angrily and punching Macalaurë in the arm.

Macalaurë let out a yelp of pain. “Fuck you, Moryo! What was that for?”

“Macalaurë” chided Nerdanel wearily. “Not in front of the little ones.”

“But Moryo just hit me, the little beast!” protested Macalaurë. “With all due respect, Amil, if you’re still trying to protect his innocence I think it’s a bit of a lost cause by this point - ”

“It’s because he’s bored to death” interrupted Tyelkormo, who was lounging across three chairs, one foot on the coffee table, the other bouncing impatiently on the floor. He caught Macalaurë regarding him with distaste, smiled sweetly, and began to drum his fingers against the arm of the chair, at a fractionally different speed. “I can understand why he’s bored though. I am too” he added. “When is he going to - ”

“Shh!” hissed Curufinwë, sinking his fingernails into Tyelkormo’s knuckles, ignoring the howl this elicited from his brother. “He’s coming now!”

Sure enough, Curufinwë’s words were followed by a knock on the door. Tyelkormo sat up with a pained sigh, and Nerdanel covered Ambarto’s eyes with her hands, motioning for Maitimo to do the same for Ambarussa.

Carnistir sat up, leaning backwards against the Christmas tree and causing it to wobble precariously, merely sticking his tongue out at Macalaurë as his brother looked daggers at him. An anticipatory hush fell at last over the room, as the door swung open.

There stood a tall figure dressed in a suit of rich, thick red velvet trimmed with white fur, with matching white hair and beard, beneath which could just be made out a pair of bright silver-grey eyes. Fëanáro smiled indulgently beneath the luxuriant beard, holding up a bulging sack. The twins squealed in delight as their eyes were uncovered, bouncing up and down on their mother and brother’s laps.

“Hello A - ” began Tyelkormo wearily. But he was interrupted by Maitimo kicking him hard in the shin giving him a warning glare and a slight shake of the head. Tyelkormo gave a martyred sigh, but before he could speak, Fëanáro began.

“Ho ho ho! Merry Christmas to the house of Fëanáro! Have you all been good this year? Because for those that have…” he winked at them, his silver eyes twinkling, and lifted the sack once more “…there just might be a few presents in here with some of your names on them.”

“Oh! Oh! We’ve been good!” chorused the twins.

“I’ve been better” said Ambarussa.

“No you haven’t!” protested Ambarto. “I have! You were the one that broke that pot remember? And then the week before - ”

“That’s a lie!” squeaked Ambarussa. “Don’t listen to him, Santa Claus. He broke it!”

Fëanáro only smiled, taking a roll of paper from one of his voluminous pockets. “Luckily I can check right here” he said. “This is naughty and nice list, so you don’t have to argue about it at all. Do you see how beneficial proper record keeping can be?”

Tyelkormo rolled his eyes. “Of course this would turn into a lesson about - ”

“ _You_ , young man” Fëanáro put in, raising an eyebrow warningly, “are in grave danger of slipping off the edge of the nice list and onto the naughty list right now. Is that what you want?”

Tyelkormo sighed loudly once more, but was silent.

“So” said Fëanáro brightly, consulting his list. “A… A… Ambarto, and Ambarussa!”

The twins shrieked with delight, and Fëanáro smiled. “Yes, it does indeed seem that the two of you have been good this year.” He rummaged in the sack, pulling out two identically wrapped packages and handing them to the twins. Ambarto fidgeted with the ribbon on his, but Fëanáro shot him a warning look. “Patience, Ambarto. You may open it only once everyone else has their present too.”

Chastened, Ambarto stilled his hands, and Fëanáro turned back to the list.

“Hmm, who is next… Atarinkë!”

“He’s alphabetised the list?” muttered Carnistir to Tyelkormo in an undertone. “Well, it figures I suppose, but if he thinks that using mother names is going to fool anyone whatsoever…”

“Hush, Moryo” scolded Maitimo in a whisper. “If you’re old enough to know it’s Atar under that beard, then you’re also old enough to understand that that doesn’t take away from the fun of it. And you certainly  _should_  at least be mature enough to not spoil it for your little brothers.”

Carnistir huffed at his brother, but fell silent. Fëanáro, meanwhile, was consulting his list again. “Curufinwë Atarinkë, it says here that you have distinguished yourself in reading, writing, mathematics and art in your first year of formal schooling alone, since last Christmas. Is that correct?”

Curufinwë puffed out his chest, his face fairly glowing with pride. “Yes! I am a… prodigy…” he paused for a moment over the word, making sure to enunciate every syllable correctly. “… everyone says so really, but more specifically I also heard grandfather Finwë talking about it with one of his lords.”

Fëanáro smiled faintly. “As long as you don’t let natural talent make you lazy about working hard, then I foresee that you will stay on the nice list for a good many Christmases hence. You deserve this.” He handed Curufinwë a small, flat, rectangular package, which the child hugged to his chest joyfully.

“Now we have… Carnistir.”

Carnistir stopped scowling momentarily at the sound of his name, only to look aggrieved once again as his father’s face fell, brow crumpling beneath the fluffy white brim of his hat.

“What?” burst out Carnistir, his cheeks beginning to turn their accustomed red, unable to keep a squeak of alarm from his voice which was just beginning to break.

“Carnistir, I  _did_  have you on my nice list” said Fëanáro, sounding sad, “but as I’m sure you are aware, I am able to monitor the behaviour of all the children in the world, and I was sad to see your levels of Christmas spirit growing dangerously low of late.” He held up a hand to still Carnistir’s outcry. “Don’t worry, I don’t put people on the naughty list for such things! But just know that you are loved, Moryo, and that Christmas is as good a time as any to temporarily leave your cynicism at the door.”

“I… yes, At -  I mean, uh, yes, Santa Claus!”

Fëanáro smiled, ruffling Carnistir’s hair. “Good. Now, to help you along, your present!” From the sack he drew a huge, bulky and irregular package, almost as tall as his waist. “For you.”

Carnistir gaped. “Thank you!”

Fëanáro returned to the list. “Macalaurë! The consummate achiever, as ever, but…” he feigned shock. “My, my, what’s this? It says here that you’ve been seen cavorting with the girls from the theatre! Whispers of scandal have even made it to my workshop, would you believe?”

Macalaurë flushed crimson. “Well, uh, I wouldn’t use the word  _cavorting_ exactly - ”

But Fëanáro was laughing. “Don’t worry, Káno. But still, you should have seen the look on your face! Besides, Mrs Claus and I did a fair amount of cavorting ourselves at one point, so I’m not one to judge…” he gave Nerdanel a conspiratorial wink “…and occasionally still do, but that’s a different story entirely.” He grinned at Carnistir’s appalled expression. “But yes, the point is, Káno, perhaps you can bribe your way entirely onto the nice list by agreeing to give a little performance for your dear family after Christmas dinner?”

Macalaurë grinned. “Why I was going to do that anyway! No one could talk me out of it!”

“Glad to hear it.”Fëanáro drew from the sack a rather oddly-shaped package and handed it to Macalaurë.

“It’s all twisty!” said Ambarto.

“Is it a musical instrument?” wondered Carnistir aloud.

“I… is this…?” began Macalaurë, running his fingers over the wrapping paper reverently, where the shape flared outwards into a wide bell. “Is this what I think it is…?”

“That depends on what you think it is.” Fëanáro winked at him. “Wait and see. But whatever your heart desires for Christmas, I make it my business to find out about…” he laughed as Macalaurë sat there grinning, delighted.

“Not another instrument” complained Tyelkormo. “Doesn’t he have enough loud things? This one’s some sort of horn or trumpet, by the looks of it. Should be even louder and more raucous than the last one! Or four…”

“ _Raucous?_ ” said Macalaurë “Excuse me, who are  _you_  calling raucous? You clearly have no concept of - ”

But Fëanáro was already looking down the list to the next name. “Maitimo!” He frowned a little. “You too seem to have had a busy year. I heard you’ve been helping out your grandfather and learning all about politics in your spare time as well as being an indispensable bastion of good sense and childcare in this household.” He looked genuinely apologetic for a moment, his voice softening, sadness edging into it. “I really don’t know what the family would do without you.”

For a moment, their eyes met and something went between them, something that lifted Maitimo’s heart.

“What about the fact that he’s off ‘ _cavorting_ ’ with our little cousin half the time?” said Tyelkormo flatly. “Is that not a slight blotch on the record of Mr Perfect Maitimo, the bastion of the family et cetera?”

It was Maitimo’s turn to blush furiously. “Tyelko, are you sure you want to go there?” he hissed, leaning towards his brother. “You know I know enough awful things about you to doom you for - ”

“Alright, alright!” whispered Tyelkormo hastily, holding his hands in front of him in mock defeat. “But the difference is, Maitimo, literally  _everyone knows_  about you and Finno. At least I’m  _subtle_  about it when I get up to such things.”

Maitimo narrowed his eyes. “Which just means I have more leverage over you.”

“Boys.” Nerdanel had fixed them both with a glare. “Please.”

“Sorry Amil.” Maitimo looked chastened.

But Fëanáro was smiling a little wearily. “Santa Claus does not deal in unsubstantiated rumours” he said blithely. “So we will dismiss them for now.”

“Unsubstantiated - !” began Tyelkormo, but Fëanáro interrupted him.

“Maitimo is firmly on the nice list, this year. Here, this is for you, Maitimo.”

Maitimo took the proffered long slim box with some relief. “Thank you.”

“And, the next name on the list is… Nerdanel!”

Nerdanel smiled sidelong at him, “So… am I on the naughty list or the nice list…?”

“Well” said Fëanáro, “I consulted your wonderful husband Fëanáro, and he seemed to be rather unclear on the issue, but said you and he might resolve things between yourselves after Christmas dinner…”

“Maitimo” said Tyelkormo loudly, covering his ears. “Are our parents finished flirting yet…?”

“Yes” said Nerdanel firmly, as Fëanáro kissed her on the cheek, handing her a small, flat box, but a faint smile that had not been there before played about her lips.

“And… hmm, last but not least… Tyelkormo!”

“About time!”

Fëanáro looked heartbroken. “I’m sorry Tyelko” he said. “I’m afraid you’re on the naughty list, and thus won’t be getting a present this year…”

“ _What?_ ”

Macalaurë grinned and elbowed Tyelkormo in the ribs. “What happened to being too old for this…?”

“Shut up.”

“Only joking” grinned Fëanáro, handing Tyelkormo a large and soft package. “Despite these putative rumours that Maitimo seems to have heard about you. Merry Christmas.”

Ambarto narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “Can we open the presents now?”

Fëanáro paused for a moment, toying with the fur on his hat. “Why yes, I should say so. Merry Christmas, one and all!”

But it was too late; his words were lost in a flurry of coloured paper. 


End file.
